Chapter Six

“This is Tory,” said Julia. “She’s the foster kid I told you about. She’s staying with us for the summer.”

Deanna Matheson stared at Tory, her mouth hanging open. When they had arrived at the Mathesons’ farm, Tory had followed Julia out to the barn, where they found Deanna leaning over a stall door and talking to a tall black horse. Deanna had shrieked when she saw Julia. Now they had their arms wrapped around each other.

“What grade are you going into?” asked Deanna.

“Four,” said Tory.

“Liar! said Julia.

Tory’s cheeks flamed. Julia should mind her own business.

“You don’t look old enough for fourth grade,” said Deanna bluntly.

“Well, I am.” That part was true. Tory was nine and she was supposed to be going into grade four.

“She can hardly read, so she has to do grade three over again,” said Julia.

“Shut up,” muttered Tory.

After that, Deanna lost interest in Tory. Tory sat on a hay bale and half-listened while the girls talked about Julia’s horse, Barnabas, and Deanna’s horse, the black one in the stall, called Prince. They made plans to ride as soon as Barnabas settled down. Oliver had put all their horses in one big field and Tory could hear them whinnying and galloping around.

“I was just about to groom Prince,” said Deanna. “I’m trying to get him in perfect condition for next week’s show.”

“I’ll help,” said Julia quickly. “You stay here, Tory.”

Tory shrugged.

“She’s afraid of real horses,” said Julia. “She’ll only ride Lucky, that old pony.”

“I’m not afraid!” said Tory hotly. She stood up.

“Okay then, you can brush Prince’s tail.” Julia glanced sideways at Deanna and grinned.

Tory tried to swallow her fear while Deanna brought the big horse out of his stall and fastened him in crossties. Deanna gave her a stiff plastic currycomb. Tory eyed Prince warily. He seemed calm, though his ears flicked back and forth every time one of the horses outside whinnied. She edged up to his hind end and picked up part of his tail.

It wasn’t too bad. The comb ran through the hair easily because there were no tangles, and Tory started to relax. Julia was brushing Prince’s neck and Deanna was rummaging around in a plastic bin, muttering about hoof polish. “Where is Lucky, anyway?” she said over her shoulder.
“I didn’t see him.”

“We didn’t bring him,” said Julia.

Tory stiffened.

“He wouldn’t load in the trailer.” Just for a second, Julia looked worried. “But it’s not like he’s trapped or anything. Dad opened the gates.” She added coolly, “It’s his own fault. You know how dumb he can be.”

A red-hot sliver of anger flashed through Tory. How dare Julia say that about Lucky! Without thinking, she hurled the currycomb at Julia’s face.

Julia screamed.

For a second, Tory felt immense satisfaction at the smacking sound the comb made. Then she felt frightened by what she had done. There was a red patch on Julia’s cheek, and tiny pinpoints of blood.

“I’m telling!” Julia spat out the words and fled from the barn.

“Now you’ve done it,” said Deanna. She put Prince back in his stall. Then she was gone too.

Tory sank back on the hay bale and waited. She was in major trouble now.

It didn’t take Oliver long to come. His face was grim as he towered above her. “I’m disappointed in you. Very disappointed. What were you thinking? You could have poked Julia’s eye out.”

It would have served her right, thought Tory. But it was no use telling Oliver that. Everyone always blamed her.

Oliver kept on. “You’re nine years old. You should know better.”

Tory wished she could drown out Oliver’s words. She hummed inside her head.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

This time, Tory let the hum escape so Oliver heard. His lips tightened in a line. She pressed her lips together too, and hummed louder.

Oliver sighed. “I think you need a timeout.
I want you to go and sit in the truck for an hour.”

Tory didn’t care that timeouts were for babies. She wanted to sit in the truck. Then she wouldn’t have to see nasty Julia or her stupid friend Deanna. Instead, she could think about Lucky.

Cathy came out to the truck and told Tory it was time for supper, but Tory refused to get out. She waited until it was dark before she ventured inside the house. The adults were in the living room, listening to more fire news on the TV. She hesitated in the doorway.

Cathy looked up. “The girls are in Deanna’s room. We’ve put a sleeping bag and a mat in there for you.”

Tory’s stomach rumbled, but Cathy said nothing about supper. Then Deanna’s mother, Martha, said, “Go into the kitchen and help yourself to a big bowl of cereal, Tory. And a banana if you like.”

It took Tory a few minutes to find everything. As she ate her cornflakes, she decided that Martha was nicer than Cathy. She chewed slowly, imagining the Mathesons as her next foster family. She sighed.

She remembered to rinse her bowl and spoon and then went in search of Deanna’s bedroom.

Julia and Deanna were lying on Deanna’s double bed, in their pajamas, looking at magazines. Trying not to stare, Tory checked out Julia’s cheek. There was still a faint red mark. Good!

Tory changed into her pajamas in the bathroom. She crawled into her sleeping bag on the floor and closed her eyes tight. She heard Julia whisper something and then Deanna giggled. They were probably talking about her.

Tory scrunched deeper into her sleeping bag.

She fell asleep worrying about Lucky.